1
CONT
INEN
TAL
DRIF
TERS
by Vaj Potenza
The following assignment was given to
a totally unknown skater who called and
said, "What's up? I'm going on a road
trip. Instead of hanging up after a
hearty 'Good Luck' I said, "Vaj, take your
trip for what it is-no official Thrasher
endorsement, no contacts, no numbers
--and I'll read your story when you get
back." Well, Vaj followed up on his idea.
What follows is a regular-guy's eye view
of skateparks across the country.-K.T.
"Cross-country trip? Yeee-aah, this baby'll do fine" the fat,
salesman-like being snorted ignorantly. He was referring to some sur-
real junk heap which may have once been a van. As I listened to
him babble, my mind screamed at me to find the words to get my
friend lan and myself out of this used-car hell.
Three van deals gone bad and a heap of time later, we finally
managed to secure the van that would get us cross country. At least
we thought so. Just as we were about to close the deal, an
argument broke out between the van owner and the owner of the
lot holding it. Insults were hurled in Spanish. A shotgun was pulled.
We made ourselves scarce while the argument was settled without
bloodshed. Ten minutes later we got the van and got the hell out.
Joe, our third traveller, joined us. We packed our skates and some
less significant things, like food, said our goodbyes, left our worried
parents and sheltered LA. lives and headed out for the first of
many skate adventures in...
ARIZONA
We stepped out of the A/C into heat that would evaporate steel.
We hadn't skated in so long, a session on the surface of the sun
would have been fine
We were greeted with open arms by my relatives and a pool.
Unfortunately, (or fortunately, depending on your outlook regarding
the weather) the pool was full. I figured the parks would provide
enough dry transitions
After making the right calls, we set out to find our first park. It
wasn't there. So we decided to go home and restore our brain
fluids before setting out again later.
The next time we got lucky, or at least followed directions right.
Tower Skatepark consists of a three-foot-high mini-ramp with a spine,
three six-foot-high minis, two of which are connected by a spine, a
twelve-foot-high halfpipe, a mish-mash of street obstacles and ap-
proximately a dozen locals, skating at night to avoid bodily damage
from the heat. Everything, except the locals, came complete with
Masonite and metal coping.
Tower also came complete with an assortment of ripping little kids
with attitudes. The future of pro-dom is secure in these little punks.
We enjoyed a long, hard session here, in which I couldn't tell my
sweat from the water I kept pouring over my head. It was the
perfect way to start the trip.
Built purely for the purpose of helping out us poor underprivileg
ed skaters, Tower boasts a wide variety of well-built ramps and
obstacles, uncrowded conditions and cool management. The
membership fee is $25.00. There is also an hourly rate.
I definitely recommend partaking in what Tower has to offer if
you're ever out Phoenix way. It's located at 320 S. 27th Avenue,
Phoenix, AZ 85003
The next park we checked out, Thrasherland, got nothing but bad,
reviews from the locals. Being the misadventurous youths we are,
we decided to drive an hour and see for ourselves, despite the
grim possibilities and the van's newly-discovered oil leak.
THE LOCALS LIED!!!
Yet another member of the growing breed of ramp parks,
Thrasherland consists of a five-foot mini-ramp, an eight-foot ramp, a
12-foot ramp and a snake run. The full pipe was the only thing with
a few holes too many. The locals here seemed like a pretty close
group, but were mighty cool to us non-local scum.
Thrasherland is one of the few places that doesn't require you to
sign any waivers. Maybe that's because it's in the middle of
nowhere at 1174 Glendale Avenue, Glendale, AZ 85307 (about an
hour out of Phoenix)
Five days later we tore ourselves away from kind people,
comfy beds and real food, and set our course for endless
roads and unknown discoveries.
We rambled on to boggle our minds with some of the
world's wonders. Unfortunately, both the Grand Canyon and
Carlsbad Caverns have changed from natural wonders intol
tourist traps with lots of gift shops.
After getting what we could out of these places, a dose
of driving and dealing with some hick gas station attendants
in small towns that don't exist unless you're there, we ran
into a dreaded cop monster.
The fat, mustached thing apparently thought we were
escaped convicts and wasted our time discovering that we
weren't the delinquents he was looking for. We parted ways
peaceably enough and managed to muddle our way into...
TEXAS
Two things Texas will never have a shortage of are ditches
and friendly people. If we had skated every ditch we passed
on the road, we never would have reached the parks. As far as the people,
they seemed happy to acknowledge our existence. In so many other states
they just hid from us or whispered about us young 'uns bringin
about civilization's downfall. But in Texas, some people even
recognized the fact that we were skaters and told us stories about
their 21-year-old sons who still skate and "must surely smoke catnip
Previous Page: A li'l local busts some butt air at
Thrashers of Ocala. Upper Right: Texas vert master
Barry Hill does the Dillo tilt. Photos by Joe Karnes.
Above: Thrasherland's big blue radar dish wall gets a
backside slash from John Thomas. Photo by Kevin Thatcher.
We finally hit our first park, Ramp and Rage Skatepark, at the same
time as a hellfire-and-brimstone thunderstorm. Hiding from the wrath
of God under one of the ramps, we waited out the downpour. I
talked to one of the locals
"This happen a lot?"
"Nope. First time ever
End of conversation.
When it seemed safe enough to do airs without being turned into
a crispy critter by a lightning bolt, a few die-hard locals and I
emerged from our dry cocoon.
Ramp and Rage Skatepark has two halfpipes, both of which were
incapacitated due to the rain. One ramp is twelve feet high with a
roll-in, the other is a five-foot mini-ramp. There is also an above-
ground, botched attempt at a square pool and enough cement
obstacles to satisfy the most avid street skater. Non-members pay
$7.00 to skate. If the ramps are dry, it might be worth the dough.
Check it out at 2250 Austin Hwy., San Antonio, TX 78209.
Next, a little driving, a little getting lost and a little
arguing found us in Austin at Dillo Skatepark, the first of
several indoor wonders we had yet to experience Dillo is
a park that has been graced by Kevin Harris' construction
skills. The mini-ramp has enough speed bumps, spines and
extensions to confuse even the most psycho riders at first.
There is also a twelve-foot-high metal-layered halfpipe and
a small wooden bowl to challenge those whose sanity is
still intact. Top all this off with a few street obstacles no
one pays any attention to, the friendliest damn locals
anywhere, and you've got yourself an experience worth
skating. Dillo is located at 9701 Browniane, N. Austin, TX
78754. It costs only a dollar an hour to skate, leaving the
pocket drainage at a minimum. Go there. You'll be more of
a person.
More driving and we made it to Houston. Here we
camped in a place where the people thought we were
evil. They looked at us hatefully when they thought our
backs were turned. This was probably because they had
heard our heated arguments over whether or not macaroni
and cheese was the antichrist. Wanting to avoid any bad
vibes or possible cross burnings, we hit the road and
checked out the Skatepark of Houston. Unfortunately, the rainstorm
we missed in Dillo caught up with us here. After it blew over, I tried
to convince the nice girl behind the desk that I was old enough to
skate without mommy's permission. I then proceeded to slip and
slide on one of the semi-dry six-foot mini-ramps.
The rest of Houston's forecast called for a light smattering of mini-
53